


when the lights go out

by savi0urdr3amer



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Dom!Celes, F/F, Femslash February, Light BDSM, Light D/s, Light Dom/sub, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Rope Bondage, all aboard the sinning train, i'm back at it again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 23:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6097453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savi0urdr3amer/pseuds/savi0urdr3amer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pretty girls are always the reckless ones. Maybe because they're afraid of being abandoned. </p><p>This can be said for both Celestia and Kyoko, although their recklessness is shown in far different ways. But regardless, their fear of abandonment remains the same, and sometimes they take it out on each other the only way they know how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when the lights go out

**Author's Note:**

> i bet u guys thought i was done with smut after eight chapters worth of pink pocky sinning  
> psssh 
> 
> (i'm always in femslash hell, forever sinning. shsl celegiri sinning)

Kirigiri takes three breaths. Stable.

In, out. In, out. In, out.

You tap your fingers in sync with her chest, examining her open mouth; her collected, cool composure gets under your skin like a tick and you find yourself irritated at her dignity, her level-headedness. You push back any impulsive urges into the back of your head and lock them away for later, if you decide they’ll still be worth meddling with by then.

She squirmed at the ropes at first, and unsurprisingly; you were able tie them just beneath her gloves, which she requested, as per usual, that you leave on. It took some meddling to find an angle that kept her movements restricted, yet still kept the rope in contact with her skin, but you managed. A bit proud of your work, you glance snidely at her bound wrists, silently reassuring yourself that yes, you _did_ do that, you _did_ manage to tie up perhaps one of the brightest detectives the world has ever known, and you did so without even a rebuttal.

She’ll be a tough egg to crack. The smart ones always are.

Of course, calling Kirigiri smart is like calling water wet, but you’ve found that you’re often at a loss for words when it comes to trying to measure the qualities of someone else; being aware of your own talents is easy. Calculating someone else’s means discarding your narcissism. And that’s something you’ve never been good at- even someone of Kirigiri’s stature still makes your bones shake, and your mind says to her, and moreso to yourself, that you will be better, that you _have_ to be. You are the queen of liars, after all.

It’s a dog eat dog world. Always has been, always will be.

You suppose this situation is no different.

You imagine her pale lilac eyes fixed on you, calculated lavender knives, and you’re sure that beneath that blindfold they’re still searing into you, burning into your skull like a brand, and it makes you nearly squirm in your chair, thinking of her piercing gaze, her slightly downturned pouty mouth, full, bloody lips, and her frail, pale shoulders-

No, no. You mustn’t give into all of this already. You’ve only just begun.

Come now, Celestia, where has your own composure gone? There will be plenty of time for that later. Focusing on the present is key. Patience is a virtue, and a very pristine one at that.

Ah, of course. Speaking of patience… someone has shown just that. You stand up from your chair slowly, quietly, circling her slowly, as if to appreciate her more. And maybe you want to leave her wondering. You run your eyes down her slowly, examining every bit of her with utmost precision; her blouse and vest are unbuttoned, leaving a section of her bare chest visible, her breasts only covered by a very plain, skin-colored bra. How fitting. Her tie has already been pulled off, discarded somewhere in previous endeavors, along with her boots and socks. Her skirt is hiked up her hips, showcasing her dainty, slender legs, and a sea of shadows rests in the wrinkles of the plaid fabric. (you’ll have to iron that for her later) Originally you figured you’d tie her up after you peeled the rest of her clothes off, but there was something a bit endearing about doing it right then and there. Maybe it was a little impulsive, yes, but it’s no less arousing of a sight; you briefly eye the visible swell of her breasts that her blouse no longer covers, and you can feel a tinge of desire heating up your cheeks, though you’re she wouldn’t notice because even you can’t see through your own infamous and unparalleled poker face.

You almost laugh at the thought. Silly. Kirigiri is blindfolded, and here you are, wondering if she’ll be able to read you like a book, one of the many cases she so effortlessly and seamlessly solved. It’s almost as if you don’t know any better.

You sit beside her gently, leaning in towards her on the bed. She doesn’t move, but you know she’s looking at you.

You trace her bottom lip with your index finger; it’s soft, plump, and it quivers ever so slightly against you; you can instantly tell that it’s of anticipation rather than nervousness. Eager girl.

“You’ve been awfully patient, haven’t you, my dear?” You murmur to her, your face, your mouth, close to her pale, pale neck. Your fingers trail down her jaw and brush a few stray strands of lilac behind her shoulder; you ghost over the braid in her hair, feeling the ridges move against your finger almost like waves, like water, would. You draw circles on her neck and watch her inhale; you can practically feel her skin prickling. “You know, I’m impressed. You stayed true to your word after all. And here I thought you might’ve given in by now…”

You move your hand down to her collarbones and press a kiss to her neck.

“Of course, mistress.” She says, her breath a gentle hiss as it escapes her lips. To anyone else this would’ve been unnoticeable, but you’ve gotten good at reading Kirigiri these past few months. The same could be said for your other classmates (or who, moreso, remains alive out of them), but she’s taken your interest in particular.

You’ve always liked challenges; they appeal to you in ways that smaller accomplishments fail to. There’s something intensely gratifying in them, especially when the odds are stacked against you. Like most people, you like coming out on top, reveling in your victory the way a general that’s just conquered an enemy army would- though if you’re being fair, the title _princess_ appeals to you far more. Or, in this case, mistress. Hearing it roll off of Kirigiri’s tongue makes the title even more hypnotic.

She’ll have to call you that more often. It’s got a pleasant ring to it.

“Oh? How courteous. Your composure is very endearing…” You lean in close enough so that she can feel the heat of your breath against the skin of her neck, her ear, and there’s a richness in your voice that would put velvet to shame. Your lips brush her jugular and you can feel the heat of her body radiating, her heart pulsing fast.

“Thank you, mistress.” She says courteously, gently.

She hasn’t cracked yet, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to watch her self-control crumble. You dawdle with how to do this for a few seconds, lingering amidst all sorts of lewd ideas, but you decide to drag it out for her. Perhaps not to the point where it becomes painful, as per usual, but enough to keep her desire refined and aching. Getting her to show a bit of weakness is painfully arousing for you, anyways. Hearing someone so calm and analytical come undone so ungracefully is music to your ears.

“And you’re so polite…What a good girl.” You murmur, a bit melodically. “I’m quite fond of the title you’ve given me, too. I do believe you might be a bit deserving of some gratification, hmm?”

You trace the lining of her bra with your fingertips, barely grazing her warm skin; you can practically feel the goosebumps forming, following in the wake of the trail of nonsensical trails and love letters you’re leaving around her sternum. Slipping your hand beneath her bra, you graze her nipple with your thumb, brushing over it slowly, gently, awaiting her reaction before pressing a bit harder on it.

Kirigiri emits a soft, sensitive moan, and it’s barely sensible; her pretty dour lips purse as she tilts her head back, resting it against the headboard. You can feel the rise and fall of her chest against you; her breathing is by no means fast, but there’s some inconsistency to it; when you hold her nipple between two fingers and pinch it, you feel her heart pounding. She hisses anxiously, clearly anticipating more, and you smile a bit at this because you know how much you’re getting to her; you’ve wedged your way into her, slowly sifting through the cracks she’s left for you to traverse, and now you’re seeing her up close and personal. You might be the first to have done this. Not an easy feat, is it?

You’re quite proud of yourself, really. If anyone deserves to see Kyoko Kirigiri beckoning and gasping, it’s you, and it should be _your_ name that’s escaping her lips.

You massage her nipple with the edge of your thumb, your other hand slipping beneath the other cup of her bra to do the same. The shudder she emits is more audible this time, and she mutters something under her breath, but it’s too quick for you to catch.

“And what was that?” You hold both of her nipples between your fingers, emitting more pressure gradually. Her back visibly arches and the moan fails to conceal is hardly collected; you feel another bolt of heat spiral down your body and rest between your legs, and you’re beginning to crave more of this, her gasps, her nonsensical groans, her svelte, searing body. “I didn’t quite catch it.”

Her chest heaves a bit more than before, her breath quickening, and you watch her brows furrow beneath her blunt bangs in an attempt to regain her calm demeanor. She tries to even out her breathing, too.

“Ah-ah, I asked you a question, didn’t I?” You pull one strap of her bra down to her shoulder, and you flip her bra upside down, giving you full access to her breasts. There are a few remnants of bites around her nipples. You eye some of the little pale pink love bites curiously. Were these the ones from the time you played strip poker, or when you pinned her against her bedroom door to teach her a lesson? You almost want to put your fingers to your chin in contemplation, a typical habit of yours. What a curious thought. But it’s one that you can come back to later. After all, you’ve got more important things to worry about, don’t you?

You press a kiss to her breast, your tongue flicking against her nipple. The feel of the heat, the wetness, against her skin has Kirigiri leaning into you, seeking more of your touch.

“M-More, Celes, I said _more,_ ” She breathes, her gasps more hurried, so delicate and desperate. Your tongue continues playing with her nipple, your fingers doing the same on her other breast.

Your eyes dart straight up to hers, as if to make eye contact with her. Ah, Celestia, what are you thinking again? She’s still wearing the blindfold, and you have no intentions of taking it off soon.

If she could see your glare, it would be piercing.

“I’m sorry? Did I give you permission to address me like that?” You say shortly, your words steel. Your lips are barely pressed to the swell of her breasts still, but your tongue rests behind your teeth, awaiting her apology before going back to work.

“My apologies, mistress. Please forgive me for my disrespect.” Her breath is heavy, thick. And surprisingly coherent. Perhaps you don’t give Kirigiri enough credit. (What another silly thought)

It’ll do, you decide.

“My, my, that was a rather humble apology. You’re forgiven. I might still punish you later, if you do it again, though. But for now, I think you still deserve some satisfaction.”

Your tongue goes back to work, toying with her nipple, and you start tracing her ribcage with your free hand, your pinky and ring fingers brushing against her bra. Moving downward, you draw pictures on her navel, brushing against her bellybutton, and you linger around the lining of her skirt, feeling the swift rise and fall of her chest.

You slide your hand beneath her skirt, touching the fabric of her underwear with the tips of your fingers. Judging by the fabric, it’s probably cotton. Smooth, but likely plain. Nothing special. Moving downwards, you put pressure on her groin, searching for her clit. You press through the fabric and move your fingers in lazy circles, feeling the sensitive bud of nerves, and you suck on her nipple lightly, occasionally nipping at it; you like utilizing more teeth than lips sometimes, although if you’d have to pick your favorite physical feature about Kirigiri, it’d probably be just that. (They’re hypnotizing, though you’d never tell her that upfront)

It’s true to say that compared to Kirigiri, you prefer teeth over lips, roughness to softness. There’s an almost vampiric energy about you, and sometimes the fantasies in your head indeed _do_ get to you, and you catch yourself wishing you were just that. A beautiful pale, lukewarm queen of the night, with sharp teeth and an even sharper tongue, bathing in pools of red as far as the eye can see-

Your thoughts are cut off by a shudder, followed by a more resounding pant of pleasure. It strikes you as dissonant at first, and you’re not entirely sure why, because vampirism and Kirigiri losing her dignity one sliver at a time practically always go hand in hand. Hm. You discard this dissonance with a blink and another flick of your tongue.

You suppose you’ve teased her enough for now, so you work your way beneath her underwear, not bothering to take it off, and you start rubbing her clit again, harder this time. You come in contact with a warm, familiar stickiness almost instantly, which brings yet another smile to your face. It’s pleasing to know that you do your job as well as you do. And really, no one else could do it any better, could they? Of course not.

Kirigiri is sensitive, and you were unsurprised but delighted to discover this. It’s been something you’ve been able to utilize to your advantage, and ultimately the outcome has been pleasurable for both of you. Much like now.

“O-oh my G-God…” She breathes, squirming, her hips pressing upwards, grinding into you. You keep circling her clit, your fingers following the motion of her hips. She’s whimpering and gasping now, completely devoid of the frosty, stable mask she wears so frequently and so, so well.

You sit up and straddle her, your knees locked on either side of her hips, and your lips linger around her neck. You keep one hand firmly between her legs, using your own weight to add to the pressure on her groin. You keep her nipple pinched firmly between your fingers with your other hand. Altogether, the result is maddening; her moans could be a drug for you, as addictive and harmonious as they are.

“Remember now,” you breathe, partially into her ear, your breath hot against her neck. You nip at her jugular, her pulse pounding against your lips. “You must ask me to come. If you come without permission, you’ll be punished.”

You briefly envision biting into her neck, your fangs piercing her flesh and delving into warm, warm blood and oh my _god_ does the thought of that turn you on even more; you practically squirm at it.

You speed up the motion of your fingers, keeping the friction and pressure constant against her clit, working hard to push her over the edge and give her what she so desperately desires.

“Mistress… p-please. Please let me come now.”

She barely manages to utter out the words. She’s so close, so close to release now, and you can nearly taste it on the tip of your tongue.

“All right then, Kyoko Kirigiri. I’m giving you ten seconds to come. No more than that. Understood?”

She nods quickly.

“Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.” You hold your teeth at her neck. “You’re running out of time, you better do it soon! Five. Four. Three.”

She makes it to two and quivers against you, gasping syllables of your name between shivers and breathy pants. You kiss her hard and she moans into your mouth, her lips, her body, spasming against you. Your tongue lines her bottom lip, and you bite down hard on it, giggling when she reacts with a soft cry mixed with both pain and pleasure.

“Good girl, always doing what you’re told.” You move your hands to her neck, cupping her face, your fingers brushing her pale, long hair. “I’ll tell you what. We can play a little game, hmm? Since you got me all worked up, I want you to touch me. I’ll untie you, but I want you to keep the blindfold on. If you manage to get all of my clothes off and please me, you can be in charge for a little while next time. Does that sound nice?”

“Absolutely, mistress.” Kirigiri’s breath is coming in short, quick pants.

“But one more thing, my dear.” You begin working at untying her wrists. “You wrinkle any of my clothes, and I’ll do much more than simply tie you up next time. Have I made myself clear?”

You haven’t had her wrists unbound for a second and she’s already undone one of the zippers of your skirt.

“Crystal, mistress.”


End file.
